


a little like lightning

by hurryup



Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Established Relationship, Linkllen Week 2017, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-28
Updated: 2017-04-28
Packaged: 2018-10-24 22:01:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10750677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hurryup/pseuds/hurryup
Summary: Allen has a weakness for pastries. Link has a weakness for Allen. It all sort of works out, really.





	a little like lightning

Under the tentative light of the rising sun, Link worked to the sleepy hum of the electric mixer. An early start, of course, but Link had always been naturally attuned to the mornings. The by-product of an industrious nature, he liked to think.  
  
(The truth was probably something a little closer to insomnia, but, ah, well. So long as he supplemented it with coffee, what did it matter?)  
  
Back pressed up against the counter top, he beat confectioner's sugar and cream into soft peaks. With practiced motions, he folded whipped cream into the pudding and went to work cutting the tops off pastry shells. A soothingly rhythmic routine. There was something pleasantly domestic, too, about the sound of his knife chopping down against the cutting board. It was, at the very least, a welcome undercurrent to the ambient hiss of an early rainfall.  
  
By his calculations, it would still only be about an hour before the first customer walked in. By that margin, he could start on a lemon and poppy seed loaf once he was finished with the éclairs; that one was popular with the lunch crowd. He ticked over his responsibilities slowly, considering it. He'd have to wipe down the counters and windows, too, then open the till and prepare the display. Time enough.  
  
Working methodically, he finished filling the éclairs. Once he was finished, he set three aside for Allen. Then another three, as a guilty afterthought, to make an even half dozen. He knew he was spoiling Allen silly, but it was difficult to avoid. Allen had a particular fondness for these, and Link had a particular fondness for Allen.

The day passed by with a comfortable sort of familiarity. The breakfast crowd around 7, the blue collar crowd around 8, the lunchtime visitors crawling it around 11:30 and lingering all the way through noontime. Link minded the cash, occasionally trading pleasantries with recipe-hunting housewives or enthusiastic customers as he rang up cakes and tarts. Simple living, yes, but the best kind of simple.  
  
Allen dropped in at about 1 PM, just in time to beat the lunchtime rush and catch the bakery during one of its less hectic hours. Apparently, this happened to be the time Allen preferred to take his breaks, though Link actually suspected he'd scheduled them with the bakery's rush hours in mind. That was... nice. Considerate of him.  
  
He bustled into the bakery, wrangling a tattered old umbrella into submission before ducking into the warmth. Nineteen years old left Allen skinny and gangly, graceful in a coltish, slapdash kind of way. He had long lashes, a fine brow, and this sort of pale, delicate frame that suggested endemically poor health. He couldn't weigh more than 140 pounds soaking wet, and Link was fairly certain he could hoist Allen up over one shoulder and carry him around like a sack of potatoes if he wanted to. At twenty-three, Link was about an inch shorter than Allen, but he was broader and more solid. More stable, maybe. Not that Allen was much competition in that regards. He looked about as sturdy as a house of cards.  
  
That day, Allen was shivering in his sweater and a scarf, awkwardly scuffing the much off of his shoes at the front before bouncing up to the counter. He looked cold. Cold, damp, and _criminally_ under-dressed. They weren't a cafe, but there was a coffee machine reserved for employees. Although it wasn't exactly protocol, Link was tempted to brew him a cup just to warm him up.  
  
"You shouldn't be going out without a coat," Link said sternly from over the counter. "It's November, now, and it'll only be getting colder."  
  
“I _like_ my sweaters," Allen said, scrunching his nose up as he waited for the heater to kick in. He glanced sidelong at Link. He looked tired and dopey and lovely.  
  
Link noticed, then, that there was a bruise on Allen's chin. It was a faint thing breaking blue and purple just shy of his lower lip. Maybe he'd taken a badly-aimed punch. Maybe he'd just run into a wall. Either way, Allen's resolute expression let Link know almost immediately that he didn't want to talk about it. Or talk at all, for that matter. That wouldn't keep Link from asking. Later, of course. When they were alone.  
  
"I'm sure you'll like them just as much with a sensible jacket on top," Link added, masking his concern with a stern huff. Allen rolled his eyes, dismissing Link's fussiness with a good-natured handwave.  
  
"Are you my boyfriend, or are you my mother?" Allen teased, tucking a loose strand of pale hair behind one ear. Before Link could protest. He leaned down to inspect the day's counter display, making a soft sound of delight. "Oh, you have éclairs!"  
  
"That we do." Link reached under the counter for the white gift box and slid it in Allen's direction. "This was for a cancelled order. I can't very well return them to the display. Help yourself."  
  
Allen's eyes lit up with a genuine delight, though he only reached for the offered package after a minute's hesitation.  
  
"Seems like that's been happening a lot lately," Allen commented, raising an eyebrow. Link forced himself to hold eye contact. "Cancelled orders, that is."  
  
"Ah, well. I suppose I've... had a bad string of unreliable customers."  
  
"You are a _terrible_ liar," Allen said emphatically. His lips quirked upwards into a coy, almost coquettish little smile. "Admit it. You're just trying to pawn your pastries off on me."  
  
"Well, you've hardly complained up until this point," Link rolled his eyes, nerves settling into the familiar tempo of fond exasperation. Allen's eyes glittered with a spark of real amusement.  
  
"So you admit it." He leaned forwards over the counter, close enough that Link was closed to blushing. Ridiculous, really— they'd been much, much closer before. "You're trying to fatten me up. I see your ploy now, Mr. Link."  
  
"Eat your éclairs, Mr. Walker."  
  
Allen laughed, then, for real. He reached for the pastry box gratefully, unraveling the binding ribbon with a smooth flick of his wrist. The moment he opened it up, he let out this gentle little ooh that was... frankly, quite adorable. To distract himself from the overwhelming urge to kiss Allen in the middle of the shop, Link wiped down the counter again, then paced to the display to fix a crooked basket of croissants.  
  
By the time he was upright once more, there was a dollop of chestnut cream at the corner of Allen's mouth, and his expression was one of uncomplicated satisfaction. It did nothing to soothe Link's butterflies. Neither did the dip of Allen's tongue, tracing around his lips to lick away the last traces of custard and mousse.  
  
Allen seemed to catch him staring at the last second, if the slow break of a downright wicked smile was anything to go by. Link should've known he'd notice. It was hard to slip anything by Allen, and Link didn't have the practice to start. He was back up against the counter top, now, temporarily more interested in Link than the remaining four pastries, which was probably an enormous compliment given his passion for eating. He batted his lashes, almost comically obvious in telegraphing his intentions. Link very nearly laughed.  
  
"You know, we are alone in here," Allen said. He gestured vaguely about the empty bakery.  
  
Link glanced around, following Allen's hands, and realized he was right. The lunchtime stragglers that had been finishing up when Allen arrived had finally wandered out, leaving the two of them alone in the middle of the bakery. Not that was any excuse to be unprofessional, of course. It was the middle of the day, after all, and anyone who so much as peeked through the window could see them.  
  
Link blushed, rapping his nails against the cash register.  
  
"I'm in the middle of work, Allen."  
  
Allen, not to be deterred, reached out absently to trace the line of Link's jaw with one finger. That boy was an absolute temptation.  
  
"Come on," he said. "What's the use in being a baker if you don't get a little something sweet for yourself every now and then?"  
  
If Link hadn't been blushing before, he was certainly doing so now.  
  
"You are insufferably cheesy," Link said, point-blank.  
  
"Only because I know it works on you," Allen hummed.  
  
Link could find no fault in that.  
  
Deciding that he’d met his quota for self-restraint for the day, he leaned over the counter, capturing Allen's lips in a quick kiss, one hand coming up to cup the side of his neck while the other tangled in his short hair. Allen reached to clench Link's lapels, coaxing the kiss a little deeper than was probably advisable. His tongue traced over Link's lower lip, quick and subtle but a definite promise of things to come later, possibly once they'd both finished their shifts and headed to Allen's place for the evening. He tasted like chestnut cream, vanilla, nicotine gum and himself.

An intoxicating blend. The kind of thing one could grow addicted to.  
  
They broke apart seconds later with a soft sound, Allen's hands falling away from Link's collar to toy with the waist of Link's apron. Link, for his part, glanced anxiously over Allen's shoulder and was relieved to find nobody had come in and seen the two of them.  
  
"Have I ever told you I like the apron?" Allen mused. "It's a good look."  
  
Link shimmed away, embarrassed and nervous and (worst of all) nearly glowing with happiness.  
  
"Take your pastries and get out of here, you absolute fiend," he said. He realized that he was smiling, and that Allen was smiling back. It felt right, as right as kissing had. "I have an oven full of bread that requires my attention.  
  
"Well, I certainly wouldn't want to jeopardize your bread," Allen said. Then, voice low, "My place, 6 PM?"   
  
"I'll be there," Link answered immediately, loving the question, loving the answer.  
  
"That's what I like to hear," Allen smiled. He leaned back in, quick, to plant a peck on Link's cheek, and Link allowed him as much without putting up a fight. He gathered his box of éclairs up in his arms, balancing them under one arm while he retrieved his sopping umbrella. "See you later."  
  
"See you later," Link agreed.  
  
Watching Allen leave, Link dazedly thought he could really fall in love with this wicked, wicked boy.

He thought it might already be too late.

**Author's Note:**

> hurryupfic @ tumblr  
> fuckhowardlink @ twitter


End file.
